


Out of Time

by InsaneTrollLogic



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1344706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneTrollLogic/pseuds/InsaneTrollLogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Connor takes the wrong portal out of Quortoth, the bewildered members of the original Angel Investigations have to figure out how to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally completed and posted on LJ 10/9/2006 (I was in high school. Forgive me.)

The Hyperion was cold, dusty and unused save the monster coming out of the enormous blue portal. It growled mindlessly and began to make it’s way towards the door. The portal crackled a second time and out fell a teenage boy, clad in animal skins, his hair was long and unkempt, his face was set. In a single smooth motion he beheaded the monster before surveying the surroundings and scowling.   
  
Behind him, there was a crackle as the portal sealed itself, for at the present time, there was no reason for the place to be a paradimensional hotspot. The dark magics preformed by a grieving father in a desperate attempt to get his son back would not be used for more than two years.   
  
But the boy did not know any of this. His face darkened, calculating. “Interesting.”   
  


* * *

  
The boy roamed the streets in wonder, dodging the occasional metal beasts that hurled at him at top speed. He frowned. His father had told him that his real father, the vampire, would be in the hotel. He had described at length him and his companions, warning the boy about their evil ways. He had said that they would be there to lure him in with false kindness.   
  
Only the hotel had been empty.   
  
He saw a demon on walking into a grungy old building and followed it in. Inside, there were many others of its kind, all drinking some sort of foul liquid and talking in an unfamiliar dialect.   
  
The boy decided to make his presence known. “I am looking for Angel.”   
  
Immediately, the conversations stopped and the entire place turned to look at him. “Look at what we have here,” one of the demons sneered approaching the boy. “Some little piss of a human thinks he can just hit us up for information. I think we should teach him a lesson.”   
  
Grinning ferally the boy raised his hands. “I think you just want to tell me where he is.”   
  
“The kids got spine, I’ll give him that. Tell me,” He eyed the boy’s raggedy clothing with distaste. “Peter Pan, sir. What exactly would you do if I were to tell you nothing?”   
  
“I would kill you,” he answered immediately.   
  
“Is that so?” Without waiting for an answer he lunged and the boy who easily dodged the attack, grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the wall. The boy held him there without much effort despite the struggle the demon put up. “This proves nothing.”   
  
“Really?” The boy asked, and pulled his left arm up, relishing the pop as the bone dislocated. “I think you’ll tell me what I need to know.”   
  
The demon did not respond.   
  
“Or I could rip your arm off, but somehow I don’t find that violent enough.” The boy said calmly. “Where can I find Angel?”   
  
“He’s set up a detective place, a coupl’a blocks down.” The boy slammed him into the wall again. “Angel Investigations.”   
  
The boy smiled and tossed the demon on the ground.   
  
It scrambled to it’s feet. “As long as you’re goin’ there. Kill the bastard vampire, alright?”   
  
A smile crept across his face. “That was the plan.”   
  


* * *

  
“C’mon man, I keep telling you, you’ve got to get out there.”   
  
“Doyle, for the last time. I’m not interested in getting out. Go with Cordelia.”   
  
“I would you see but, me and Cordelia minus you enters into date territory.” Doyle admitted nervously, “Besides, she’s off enjoying her poltergeist free apartment.”   
  
“She didn’t invite you over,” Angel said knowingly.   
  
“I think the me finding her the poltergeist infested apartment turned her off a bit.”   
  
“So you decide to annoy me instead?”   
  
“What if we just did a sweep of the city. A patrol or somethin’. There’s bound to be someone needin’ helpin’. I’m going crazy jus’ sittin’ here.”   
  
“Fine,” Angel said with a wry grin. “But after can you let me brood.”   
  
“It’s a deal.”   
  


* * *

  
The boy pulled on a dark blue shirt that far to big for him and looked around the foreign room. It was dark, small and cramped, a bed in one corner, dresser in the other. It looked far more forlorn that anything he’d seen in Quortoth. The owner had left the window open. He wondered if they had a death wish. No one in their right mind would leave any advantage to the enemy, especially not something as easily correctable as an open window.   
  
He heard a sudden noise and a figure appeared in the other room, a figure who immediately realized that something was wrong. “Is someone here?”   
  
The boy went to the window an soundlessly jumped out to the street, nearly three feet below. He bend his knees to absorb the impact, took a quick look around and sprinted off into the distance.   
  


* * *

  
“See there?” Doyle said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Told you we’d find something out here.”   
  
“Can’t you get through a fight without getting hurt.” Angel asked, offering his friend a hand.   
  
“Nah.” Doyle pulled himself up. “Never been big with the combat, only being a messenger and all.” He winced. “Usually a bit better at running away though.”   
  
A figure had appeared at the end of the alleyway. Angel stiffened. “Doyle, are you good to fight?”   
  
“Yeah man. Sure. World’s not spinnin’ that fast.”   
  
Angel made a mental note that Doyle was not good to fight, before turning his attention back to the potential threat. “I know you’re there.”   
  
Soft laughter in response.   
  
“Look I’ve done the stalking, it doesn’t end well.”   
  
The figure stepped out of the shadows and raised his arm where he had apparently rigged up a spring loaded stake-shooter. “Hi dad.”   
  
Surprisingly, it was Doyle who saw the stake flying and managed to knock Angel out of the way. The stake hit the back wall and clattered noisily to the ground. Angel was staring at the boy in what appeared to be shock. “Don’ jus’ stand there!” he heard Doyle say frantically, “Do somethin’!”   
  
Angel didn’t know what to do, but when the second stake sailed through the air, he switched into auto pilot, dodging it easily. Doyle was up as well, moving slowly and haltingly to towards the attacker, with what looked like a trash can lid in his hands.   
  
Seeing that his stake had missed the target, the boy moved quickly towards Angel, throwing a series of punches that the vampire only barely had time to dodge. Doyle arrived a second later, swinging the trashcan lid at the attacker’s head. It connected with a satisfying thwap and the boy stumbled forward a step, but quickly regained his balance and smoothly kicked Doyle into the opposite wall.   
  
Angel used the distraction to gain the upper hand in the fight, spinning the assailant around, both hands on his neck, preparing to make the kill.   
  
But he felt a steady pulse and suddenly there was the scent of human blood.   
 __  
Human. The kid was human.  
  
The boy kneed Angel in the stomach and began to back away, knowing that this was a fight he wouldn’t be able to win.   
  
Doyle moaned softly in the darkness, a sign that he was still alive.   
  
“What are you?” Angel called.   
  
Silence answered him.   
  


* * *

  
“He called you dad?” Cordelia asked. “That means he’s how old? Over two hundred. ‘Cause vampires and kids, I would have heard something about that in Sunnydale.”   
  
“He was definitely human.” Angel said suddenly looking up from a sketch he was drawing. “Not a vampire.”   
  
“I was betting slayer meself?” Doyle put in, clutching an ice pack to his head. “Humans don’t have that kind of strength.” Cordelia glared pointedly at him. “And then I remembered slayers were mostly of the female type so that’s also a no.”   
  
“I don’t get it. Why attack me.”   
  
“You’ve got plenty o’ enemies,” Doyle supplied. “Me and Cordy ‘ere are a but more stuck on him callin’ you dad.”   
  
“I don’t have a son,” Angel replied and propped his sketch book up for them to see. “What do you think Doyle?”   
  
“That’s him alright.”   
  
“Got the wild thing going on,” Cordelia commented, before tilting her head off towards the side. “He does kind of look like you.”   
  
Doyle grinned. “Who knew scowls were hereditary.”   
  
“I do not have a son.” Angel repeated. “Vampires can’t, remember?”   
  
“Look,” said Doyle plainly. “stranger things have happened. Vampires with souls maybe?” But he didn’t really even believe himself.   
  


* * *

  
Even after racking his memory, the boy could not recall the vampire’s companion from his father’s stories. Holtz had told him all about the vampire’s companions, their names, descriptions, weaknesses, but none matched that of the dark haired Irishman from the day before.   
  
He dimly wondered if this one could be trusted. If maybe he could enlist his help, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The man was obviously a friend of Angel’s and that blow to the head really did hurt.   
  
He remembered the address he’d gotten for Angel Investigations. He would go there when the sun went down.   
  


* * *

  
Cordelia had been on edge all night. Doyle had been typing away at the computer frantically searching for anyone who resembled their mystery attacker. Cordelia was filing. Only the problem was they only had about four cases to file so, she she had to endlessly arrange them.   
  
Doyle abruptly pushed his chair back. “I give up. There’s nothing here on our guy.” He looked over at Cordelia who had dropped the papers in her hands onto the floor. “Sorry I scared you Princess.” He smiled. “What d’ya say we take a break, maybe go get coffee or something.”   
  
Cordelia studied him intently. “Are you asking me out?”   
  
He went bright red. “No date. Coffee.”   
  
“OK then.” She watched in amusement as he immediately brightened. “But just coffee. If it was a date I’d have to say no.”   
  
“Just coffee then.” Doyle, to his credit, managed to keep smiling. “I don’t have enough cash to pay fer the both of us.”   
  
She smiled back and him and grabbed her jacket. “Starbucks. Frappachinos here I come.”   
  
But Doyle had stopped moving, staring at the door with a concealed look of terror.   
  
“What?” Cordelia asked, following his gaze to the face she recognized from Angel’s sketch. “Oh.”   
  
“Cordelia, go get Angel,” Doyle muttered, eyes still firmly trained on the intruder.   
  
“But Doyle.”   
  
“Cordelia. Just do it.”   
  
“Alright.”   
  
She went down the stairs to alert Angel that their attacker had followed him home.   
  
And Doyle was left alone. “What exactly d’ya want?”   
  
“I’m looking for Angel. I need to talk to him.”   
  
Doyle discretely began making his way towards a weapons case. “How d’ya know Angel anyways? You just Random kid with a chip on his shoulders or something?”   
  
“My name is Steven.”   
  
“Good to know. Doyle.” He didn’t have time to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “How’s the head?”   
“Alright.”   
  
Doyle stumbled for half a step. “I was hopin’ you’d be at least a little hurt, you know? Would’ve made me feel more secure in my manhood, you know.” And in his head he was pleading that Angel arrived before the kid,  _Steven_ , snapped.   
  
Steven simply smiled and stepped forward a step. Doyle who was panicking now felt his knee bump into the weapons chest. He heard Steven’s distinct voice. “Don’t even try.”   
  
Doyle ignored the warning and ripped open the weapon’s chest and grabbed the first thing he could. It turned out to be a rather dull sword, but it didn’t matter, Steven had moved quicker that the eye could see and had grabbed his wrists before he could swing. They crashed into the wall and bounced straight back off, and then Angel appeared behind them, and pressed a wet cloth to Steven’s mouth. He struggled for a second before collapsing.   
  
Doyle looked at Angel, shocked. “What kind of a guy keeps chloroform in his place?”   
  
Cordelia gave an appreciative snicker from behind him, but Angel was all business. “Let’s get him secured in the basement.”   
  
Doyle nodded. “Quick too. He’s not going to be to happy when he wake’s up.” He grabbed Steven’s feet and Angel took his arms. 

Cordelia shook her head as she followed them downstairs. “Why can’t I get a normal job? One that doesn’t involve chaining people to the wall.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Steven woke up slowly, prying his eyes open and surveying the unfamiliar room with a calculating glare. He blinked twice to clear his vision and noticed he’d had company in the room, the same man he’d been fighting before. He immediately began to strain his arms, trying to get to him, but he was in chains. The man, who he dimly remembered had called himself Doyle jumped a bit at the sudden noise. “Angel!” 

The vampire rushed in, followed closely by a dark haired girl who Steven could only assume was Fred (long dark hair, he remembered Holtz saying, big brown eyes). “Are you going to kill me?” 

“Why, would we do that?” asked Angel as he sat down in a chair across from Steven. 

“I don’t know.” Steven laughed. “That’s just how it works. I tried to kill you.” 

“Well. He’s not insane” the girl commented a bit too loudly quieting as soon as Angel glared at her. “Sorry.” 

“We’ll start with the basics. What’s your name?” 

He wouldn’t answer, wouldn’t even look at the group. Doyle, who was sitting on top of the table supplied, “Told me his name was   
Steven .” 

“You ask for people’s names before fighting them?” the girl asked incredulously. 

“Cordelia! Doyle!” Angel snapped. “Can I get a second here?” 

They both realized that it was not the time to push him and exited quietly. Angel turned back to Steven who was glaring at him… so she was Cordelia, his father had told him all about her… He looked at the vampire “You’ve fooled them too. How long until you kill them?” 

“I’m not killing anybody. That seems to be you, and I’d like to know why.” When Steven simply averted his eyes and Angel grabbed him by the chin and jerked his head back forward. “Now you could tell me or I could force it out of you. I haven’t done it for a while, but I don’t like people lying to me. I’m only going to ask you once. Why the hell are you trying to kill me?” 

Steven lifted his head defiantly, but was all the same aware that the vampire had bested him in a fight. “Revenge.” 

“For what?” 

“You killed my father’s family.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Sixteen.” 

“I haven’t killed any families in the past hundred years,” Angel replied. 

Steven’s eyes narrowed. “My father took me from you when I was a baby. He saved me.” 

“I never had a son. I’ve never even seen you before.” Angel’s curiosity finally got the best of him. “What’s you’re name?” 

“Steven Holtz.” 

 

“Angel man? You OK.” 

“Yeah! Did you find out anything about stalker boy?” Cordelia asked, “Because I’m not looking forward to another research night.” 

“He said his name was Steven Holtz.” 

“Seems like normal enough then,” Doyle commented, “but only discounting how he almost took the both of us out last night.” 

“Not that taking out you is all that hard,” Cordelia muttered caustically. 

Doyle winced at the insult but recovered quickly. “Should I be looking for him on the nets?” 

“I knew a Daniel Holtz.” Angel continued, well practiced at ignoring his two co-worker’s banter. “Back in the 18th century.” 

“Something tells me this story ends with. ‘and then I ate him and his family.’” Cordelia sighed and leaned back against the wall. 

Angel swallowed and went on as though he hadn’t heard. “Holtz was hunting me and Darla. I killed his family, he chased us for a while and then he dropped off the face of the earth.” 

“And this kid’s got the same name.” Doyle said, slightly alarmed by Angel’s uneasiness. “Coincidence right?” 

“He also said that Holtz took him from me and raised him.” 

“Congratulations.” Cordelia clapped him on the back. “You’re the proud father of a teenage kid. Can we go home now?” 

“Cordelia, sixteen years ago, I was living in the gutters eating rats. I didn’t have time to knock anyone up.” 

“You ate rats?” Doyle made a face. “That’s disgusting, even for a vampire.” 

“That’s not the point.” Angel waved a hand. “This kid Steven’s obviously got the wrong guy.” 

“If he made a mistake shouldn’t we explain and unchain him,” Cordelia asked, “I mean why give him even more reason to want to kill us.” 

Doyle nodded his agreement. “Cordelia’s got her a point.” 

Angel remained silent. 

“Anything’s better than leaving him chained up down there, ” Cordelia continued. “I mean if he breaks out, things could get messy.” 

“I’m not letting him out on the streets if he’s a threat.” 

“Yeah,” Cordelia retorted. “Only you won’t kill him ‘cause he’s human. Where exactly does that put us?” 

“Uh. This may be last night’s head wound talking,” Doyle stammered, “but this conversation isn’t going anywhere meaningful and we’ve got a possibly homicidal maniac in the next room who’s not getting much saner. Maybe we fix this misunderstandin' before he figures out a way to get out of them chains.” 

 

“You’ve made a mistake,” Angel informed Steven. “I don’t have any kids. Sorry about chaining you up, but you did try to kill us. And we’re going to have to keep you here until we figure this out.” 

“That is impossible,” Steven sneered. 

“No, it’s way possible.” Cordelia folded her arms. “Mistakes happen all the time. Just look at Doyle.” 

“Hey!” 

“We would like to let you go.” Angel said, all the while studying the boy in the chains. “Do you have any family?” 

“My father,” came the growled response. 

“Where do you live?” 

“Quortoth.” 

Doyle, who had been bickering with Cordelia in the background went silent. “Did you just say Quortoth?” 

Steven jerked his head up, mildly surprised that someone besides Angel had addressed him. “Yes.” 

“Let him go.” Doyle said shakily, “Unchain him or something.” 

“What?” Cordelia exclaimed from behind him. “Are you insane?” 

“Unchain him.” Doyle repeated, a haunted look in his eyes. 

Angel got stood up and took his friend by the shoulder and lead him out of the room. “What do you mean let him go?” 

“You don’t get it man. Quortoth’s a hell dimension.” Doyle looked at him in earnest. “You hear about people who get sent there, but there’s not supposed to be any outgoing traffic. No one is supposed to come out of that place. I haven’t heard of anyone coming out of hell dimensions without some serious scars and not just the physical kind. Places like that can really warp you values.” 

“So your saying he’s unstable.” 

“No,” Doyle protested, but then paused for a second, “maybe just a little.” 

“So what do we do with him?” Angel asked. “If his family’s in a hell dimension, we can’t really just send him back. Dimensional travel tends to be messy.” 

“Well, locking him up’s not going to do wonders for that instability of his.” Doyle replied, “We’ve got to keep an eye on him.” 

“I could offer him a job,” Angel muttered thoughtfully. “We’ve got an extra room here.” 

“What?” Doyle said, surprised, “You can’t do that! He could stake you in your sleep.” 

“What’s stopping him from doing that if we let him go. He knows where we are.” 

“Thanks man, you’re really reassuring me.” 

“Doyle, I need you to be okay with this.” By the tone of his voice, Doyle could tell that Angel had already made up his mind.   
He glanced at his friend and back at Cordelia awkwardly staring at Steven, neither talking. He swallowed. “Fine. But you’re explaining it to Cordelia.” 

Steven stared blankly at Angel as he undid the chains. “Do you have anyplace to go?” 

He wondered if the vampire was playing him, if maybe that was what he and the Doyle character had been conversing. He suspected this was all a trap. “I’ll find somewhere.” 

A brief look of indecisiveness flashed in Angel’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Steven was sure he must have imagined it. “I have an extra bed. Well technically it’s a sofa bed but…” 

“You want him to stay here!” Cordelia exploded from behind them. “Are you evil again?” 

“Insane and evil are different things Cordy,” Doyle muttered into her ear. 

“I can hear you two!” Angel snapped before returning his focus to the incredibly confused boy in front of him. “Look we just want to help.” 

“Which is big of us,” Cordelia said from behind them, “all things considered.” 

“Cordelia! Is that really necessary.” 

This time Steven allowed himself a grin at the sheer ridiculousness of the banter. Angel on the other hand misinterpreted it and allowed a rare smile in return.. “Is this alright by you? You’re not going to try to kill me again?” 

Steven wordlessly shook his head, in his head, promising no such thing, and watching with wonder as Doyle tossed Angel the keys to the handcuffs. Angel glanced once more back at his friends. “I’m going to let you go. Now, you’re welcome to stay here if you want. Help out in the office.” 

“I want to fight,” he said abruptly. 

“I’m sure we can find you something to kill,” Doyle muttered more to himself than anyone else. “Lost of nasty demons in LA.” 

“What do you say Steven?” Angel asked. 

He studied the group’s faces, annoyance on Cordelia’s, resignation on Doyle’s, and something completely unreadable on Angel’s. And for some odd reason, Steven found that he could almost trust them. “Yeah. OK.” 

He held out both wrists and let Angel undo the chains. 

 

“For god’s sake Doyle, hold still.” Cordelia muttered as she poured disinfectant on the squirming Irishman. “Stop being a baby.” 

“You’re not the one who almost got skewered.” 

“I’ve been skewered before.” Cordelia told him irritably, “and trust me, it hurts a lot more than this little bitty scrap. Where are Steven and Angel?” 

“Doing the rounds. Dropped me off when I managed to get myself a bit bloodied. They’re doing just find without me.” 

“Which is definitely good,” Cordelia told him as she secured the white bandage around his side, “I’m getting sick of you getting blood all over.” 

“I guess,” Doyle muttered, but there was an odd look that lingered around his eyes. “It just makes me feel kind of useless.” 

“Hey, you’re the only one who can stop Angel’s constant brooding.” She grinned, “the Scoobies would have killed to have you around.” 

Doyle was taken aback by the rare compliment, but before he could crack a smile she cut him down. “Then again…” 

“Let’s just leave it at the first part ok Cor?” 

“You know you’ve got a major inferiority complex going on.” 

“And it’s mostly your fault.” Doyle retorted. 

“And the rest of it?” 

Doyle didn’t answer her and with a twinge of disappointment, Cordelia realized he wasn’t going to. “So, Steven still trying to kill Angel?”   
“If he is, he’s being subtle.” 

Cordelia snorted. 

“You don’t like him.” Doyle guessed. 

“You don’t either.” 

“I’m trying to give the kid a chance.” Doyle explained, “he grew up in a hell dimension.” 

“If you believe him.” Cordelia snorted. “As far as I’m concerned, he lost the benefit of the doubt the minute he tried to kill my friends.”   
Doyle beamed at the fact she called him a friend and was about to respond when the door swung open and Steven tossed a bloodied axe on the table. Angel followed him in, grinning widely. 

“Oh great,” Cordelia moaned, reaching for the stake she always kept at her desk. “He’s evil again.” 

Angel stared at her. “Cordelia, this is the third time this week you asked that. I’m not evil.” 

“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were evil.” 

Doyle put a placating hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “And he wouldn’t be saying he was evil if he was good either.” 

When Cordelia refused to relax, he shot a glance at Steven who shrugged. “I already thought he was evil.” 

“Why does everyone always think I’ve gone evil?” 

“You never smile like that.” Cordelia explained plainly, “Except when you’re evil. The leather pants are probably next.” 

Doyle rolled his eyes and took Angel by the arm. “Are you ok man?” 

Angel looked at him in muted disbelief. “Look. Me and Steven killed a demon. It was kind of a fun fight. You should have seen him. He’s really good at this. I’m kind of proud of the kid.” 

Cordelia put down the stake. “OK. Ew. Male bonding over demon slime and guts. I’m calling it a night. See you tomorrow.” 

Doyle pushed back from his chair. “Hard day’s work deserves a bit of fun.” 

“I’m not going out to a pub with you,” Angel said before he could even ask. 

Steven on the other hand smiled. “I’ll go.” 

“You’re underage,” Angel said quickly. 

“We don’t have to go to a pub,” Doyle replied, “We’ll just grab some wings or something. I just got to get out. What do you say Steve?” 

Steven unconsciously looked at Angel before catching himself and saying, “Sure.” 

 

“You’ve never had wings before have you?” Doyle asked with a hint of a smile. 

Steven smiled. “Much better than the food in Quortoth.” 

“So,” Doyle began conversationally, “you still looking to kill Angel?” 

“My father says that all demons are evil and should be destroyed.” 

Doyle paled noticeably. “You know some of them are an okay lot.” 

Steven shrugged. “Haven’t met any.” 

Doyle tried again. “You know, Angel’s got a soul.” 

“Cordelia says he’s lost it before. It’s only a matter of time before he loses it again.” 

“She’s always optimistic isn’t she.” 

“My father warned me about her as well. She…” 

“Hold on man.” Doyle said sharply, “He gave you profiles on us? Has he been watching or something? The last thing I need is a stalker on top of everything else?” 

“He never mentioned you.” Steven muttered into his soda and something about his tone made Doyle pause. 

“Who did he mention?” 

“Angel. Cordelia. Someone named Wesley. A guy named Gunn. A girl called Fred.” He gulped down a soda, “You’re not named Wesley are you?” 

“Nah,” Doyle answered shakily, “I used to go by Francis, but now, it’s just Doyle.” 

Steven examined the remains of a wing and shook his head. “He never mention you.” 

Why? Doyle’s mind echoed, why not me? 

Because Cordy’s right and the poor kid’s delusional. He snapped back at the voice. 

“Let’s go.” He said out loud as he signaled for a waiter, “It’s getting late.” 

 

Steven stared at the ceiling of Angel’s apartment as he started to drift off to sleep and started to chronicle the lies. Everyone lied, and soon the lies got so abundant that some of them ended up as truths. Holtz, his father, had taught him that. 

Beware of the man who believes their own lies. If you let them, their lies can overtake your truths. 

Had Holtz lied to him too? There was no man named Wesley, nor Gunn nor a girl named Fred. Cordelia didn’t seem at all the manipulative siren he had been warned of. She seemed rude to the point of being caustic. She didn’t seem likely to share kindness with him, false or otherwise. And this Doyle character was a complete unknown and seemed to only offer him reluctant kindness.   
Angel, who he had been told was his real father, did not seem to know him. Holtz had predicted Angel would do anything to gain his trust, but the first thing he had done was put him in chains. 

Where were the lies? Steven laid on the uncomfortable sofa bed and tried not to listen to Angel restlessly moving in the office above him. 

Slowly he drifted off into the darkness. 

He dreamt of Quortoth. 

And for the first time in his life, it felt like a nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3

Los Angeles, Steven was quickly realizing, was just as dangerous as Quortoth. In Quortoth, you knew what to expect. You could see the monsters. Vampires were a whole new breed to him. Most of the things when he grew up were big scaly and inhuman. But vampires were human monsters. Harder to recognize. Smarter than he was used to.

He didn’t even know there was something wrong until he smelled the blood. He turned off into one of the side alleys and saw the body, lying sprawled across the pavement. Its arm was contorted sticking out at an unnatural angle, the face was pale and looked deceptively peaceful if your dismissed the livid red teeth marks on its neck. The body belonged to a young girl, blonde stringy hair, striking features, she couldn’t have been more than twenty.

Steven heard a sniffling sound and jerked his gaze towards the source.

It was another girl, she looked nearly identical to the older one, only ten years younger. She sniffled again, tears running down her cheek. Steven can smell the salt of them. Almost feel her sadness.

He knelt down next to her. “Are you hurt?”

She had wide hazel eyes with flashes of green, gray, brown and gold. “She’s my sister,” she said and looked away again.

Steven didn’t know how to respond. “Do you have anywhere to stay?”

She didn’t answer. Just looked at him blankly for a moment, tilted her head to the side and said, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

“What?”

“Monsters here,” she explained. “Monsters made you.” She frowned, saw the body again and started crying. “God, Lacey! I’m sorry! Get it out of my head!”

Steven reached a hand towards her, but she shook it off and raving, “Don’t touch me! You’re an anomaly! You don’t exist! You shouldn’t exist! Son of monster. Shoulda made you a monster. And you were born next year and growed backwards. Out of time. Anomaly. It’s got to snap back. You shouldn’t exist. You shouldn’t be  _here_.” She clutched her hands to her ears. “You think loud but you don’t exist. Paradox. Anomaly.”

“I exist.” Steven said because he didn’t know how to deal with this odd rambling preteen. Something about the situation unnerved him.

She looked up at him and smiled in a sort of vague amusement.

She had blood on her teeth.

Gold in her eyes.

He froze and listened.

No heartbeat. No breathing.

Just a dead little psychic girl who looking at him with angry green-gold eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, standing up, “you’re not supposed to be here and I’m not supposed to be dead, and we’re both just waiting for things to snap back into place. We are both human monsters.”

She attacked, and Steven snapped into autopilot, the stake sliding smoothly into her chest as and the vampire turned to ash.

Her words echoed in his head.  _Human monsters. We are both human monsters_.

* * *

When he got back to Angel Investigations. He caught the tale end of a fight saw Doyle putting a stake into a greasy looking vampire as Cordelia watched in amazement. He vaguely remembered Cordelia boasting about a date and how she might not be back tomorrow.

He watched the two of them exchange a few words and then the went inside together, Doyle looking battered and bruised and Cordelia with a uncharacteristically thoughtful grin on her face.

He didn’t get it at all. Didn’t understand either of them. Didn’t trust Cordelia. Didn’t know what to make of Doyle.

And he didn’t follow them in.

* * *

Steven had gotten to the point where he’d rather watch than participate in the various happenings of Angel Investigations. Cordelia begun that trend after he’d accidentally killed one of their few customers. Sure the customer had been a demon looking to kill her, but Cordelia had insisted that he should have let the beast live until they got paid.

So instead he watched and listened and noticed the little things that break his world one thing at the time. He watched Cordelia, the one his father (Holtz, a little voice had begun hissing in the back of his mind) had said would lure him in with sweet talk, but she’s loud and oddly blunt and he got the feeling that she enjoyed arguing with him. Angel offered him a place to stay, but had laid no claim to his paternity. And then there was Doyle the perfectly decent human who had ended up in a detective agency with a pair of devils.

 _Trust your instincts_. Holtz’s voice whispered to him in his sleep and he wondered when trusting his instincts had started coming in direct conflict with listening to his father.

He asked Doyle what he was doing with the two of them whenever he gets the chance and no matter what he was always surprised when Doyle would say they were as close to family as he ever had.

“So,” he heard Cordelia say through Angel Investigation’s thin walls, “I've got to kill myself. I swore when I went that road with Xander Harris, I'd rather be dead then date a fixer-upper again. Still, maybe you're right. Maybe Doyle does have-hidden depths. I mean, really, really hidden-but depths. And I'm gonna have to buy him a moccachino to thank him for saving my life, don't you think?”

They were supposed to be plotting the world’s destruction. They were supposed to be the evil demons who had killed his father’s family…

He heard Angel stammering an answer that Cordelia talked right over “Me, too. We'll be back in a half. You watch the phones, okay?” She frowned. “Where’s Steven? Doesn’t he work here?”

Steven flinched and glanced guiltily towards the door and he would have gone in that moment if there hadn’t been a small curly haired women standing nervously in his way.

“I guess he’s late.” Angel said from inside.

“He  _lives_ here.”

“He went out on his own. I didn’t stop him.”

“For the record, that probably wasn’t the world’s smartest thing to do.” And even though there wasn’t any malice behind the statement, Steven suddenly felt justified in spying on them.

* * *

The women in the doorway, as it turned out was Doyle’s wife. Steven had the odd feeling that it hit him even harder than it hit Cordelia. Because somehow, shaking hands with that curly haired women was betrayal or the worst sort.

Because somehow, the idea had gotten into his head that Doyle was real, Doyle was normal, Doyle was trustworthy. And he could hardly admit it to himself, but he had needed that. Needed the one person he could talk to without constantly watching what he said.

But Doyle had secrets. Just like Angel and Cordelia. Just like he did.

He made an excuse to leave and hardly noticed the man he brushed by on the way out.

* * *

He took off, because he didn’t really know what else to do. Stole some food because even if Angel had offered him money, there was no way he would have taken a cent. When it got dark, he started to kill things.

And across town in a law firm called Wolfram and Hart, someone took notice.


	4. Chapter 4

He didn’t come back to Angel Investigations until well into the afternoon. Cordelia was the only one currently upstairs. When he eased the door open, she glanced up. “Welcome to Angel Investig… Steven.” Disappointment crossed her face, but she brightened a second later. “You know what? I’m actually glad you’re here.”

Steven blinked. “You are?” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Cordelia smiled at him and before he could stop himself, he’d given her a smile back. “Well, you see, I’m going to a friend’s party and we need someone to be here in case we have a customer.”

“We never have customers.”

“You never know,” she said with forced cheer. “This could be our lucky day. Now if someone calls, you pick up the phone—you do know what a phone is, right, Steve?”

Steven stared at her.

“Well, you pick it up and say ‘Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless.’? It’s not rocket science.” She grabbed her purse. “If someone comes in… Try not to scare them too much. Great. That’s covered. Have fun.”

Steven’s mouth dropped and words of protest welled in his throat, but she was gone before he could force them out.

* * *

 Desk work, as it turned out, was boring as hell. Especially when Angel Investigations had no customers or paperwork to speak of. He gave up on it after only ten minutes and spent a some time looking through one of Angel’s books.

He realized it was his first time alone in the building and his lips curled slowly into a smile. They trusted him now and that knowledge opened up a world of possibilities. Not the least of which was going through Angel’s things for any and all evidence of his true plot. Slowly, he put the book carefully back on the table and moved towards the file cabinets behind Cordelia’s desk. It was as good a place to start as any.

But he didn’t think he’d find anything. The seeds of doubt had been planted in his mind and they whispered blasphemy in his ears his every waking moment.  _What if Angel really is who he seems? What if Cordelia is just a girl? What if Holtz was wrong about everything?_

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact time, but at some point in the last few weeks, Holtz had stopped being father and started just being Holtz. The change didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have.

“Angel?” an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway. “Cordelia? Doyle? Anyone around?”

Steven scrambled to get back to the desk and managed a smile as the pretty blonde made her way into the office. She paused when she saw him. “I don’t know you,” she said, coloring slightly. “I do have the right building? Angel Investigations?”

Steven nodded.

“I don’t think I know you,” the lady said awkwardly. “I was just looking for Angel. I could come back later.”

“I work here,” Steven replied, disliking the ease of his of answer… like he belonged here. “I can handle what you need.”

She paused and then allowed him a small smile and for a single wild moment, Steven thought that this might be his true mother, might be Darla come for her illicit affair with Angel. She fit Holtz’s description, smallish, blond…. But then he heard the steady thumping of her heart and knew it couldn’t be true.

The realization left him oddly disappointed. He hated his own weakness.

“So, do you have a name, or are you another one of those shady characters Angel’s always got around.”

“Little of both,” he admitted. “Steven Holtz.”

There was the barest flicker of recognition in her eyes but she covered it quickly and extended a hand. “Detective Kate Lockley.”

Steven didn’t recognized the name. He felt his frustration with Holtz building as he calmly shook hands with Kate. How was he supposed to know who to trust when all of Holtz’s information kept turning up wrong.

“I work with Angel sometimes,” Kate explained as he let her hand go. “He did me a favor a while ago and he asked me to help him out with something.” She pulled a folder from her oversized purse. “I think it was a favor for you anyway. It must be tough, not knowing your parents, I just wish I could have been more help.”

Steven accepted the folder in a sort of daze. “I ran through all the Daniel Holtzs I could find, but didn’t find any who had a kid around your age.” She indicated the folder in Steven’s hands. “That’s folder has all the likely candidates. Who knows, maybe you find something I missed.” She paused and almost as an afterthought added, “I’m sorry .”

He blinked, unsure of exactly why she was apologizing. “Thank you,” he said thickly, words sounding foreign to his own ears.

“It was Angel’s doing, not mine,” Kate said with a shrug. “He told me he was letting you stay here until he could find something on your case. He’s a good guy. Me, I’m just paying back a favor.” She shook her head and glanced back to the door. “Look, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got the graveyard shift tonight. Tell Angel I stopped by?”

“Yeah,” Steven muttered, “Sure.”

He hardly noticed Kate leaving. He was busy flipping through the files she’d left. Picture after picture of men named Daniel Holtz and not a single one the Holtz he knew.

But that wasn’t what had been bothering him. No, what bothered him was the fact that Angel had been looking. That despite everything he’d done to Angel, everything he’d accused him of, everything he’d said, Angel was willing to track down his family.

Too bad his family didn’t exist. Too bad no one was looking for him.

And, for the first time. Steven wondered if living and working at Angel Investigations was really a bad thing. He’d originally accepted Angel’s proposition so he could bide his time and wait for the right moment to take him down, but it had been more than a week and he still hadn’t made his move. Angel hadn’t done anything evil and the longer this trend stayed, the harder it would be for Steven to even contemplate killing him. He was getting attached. To Doyle, to Cordelia and even to Angel.

And it felt like home. More than Holtz and Quortoth ever had, it felt like home.

The phone rang suddenly, bringing Steven out of his daze. He stared at it for a minute before picking the receiver. “Angel Investigations,” he said quickly but forgot the rest of the mantra and trailed off like he’d fallen asleep on his feet.

“Steven!” Angel’s voice comes through the phone, strong and steady. “Doyle’s in trouble. I might need back up.”

“Where are you?”

Angel told him without taking a breath. Then again, Angel didn’t need to breath.

Steven was out the door before he even realized he was moving.  
  


* * *

 

He didn’t see how the fight started, how they managed to secure Doyle in a circus box and draw a crooked dashed line across his forehead. He arrived all of five minutes after Angel, but the restaurant was already chaos. There were twenty or so demons in the room, all the same type as far as Steven could tell. Red face, red eyes, a pair of scaly ridges where their eyebrows should be. Angel was in the thick of it and Doyle was sliding around in the box trying to avoid the fight.

And then all of a sudden, there was a demon where Doyle should be. Sickly green skin with blue spikes protruding from its face, but the hair the clothes, the jacket.

It was all Doyle.

Betrayal sliced through Steven like a knife and it was suddenly hard to breath. Because of out of the small group that was Angel Investigations, it had always been Doyle who he trusted, Doyle who he would confide in, Doyle, more than anyone, he had almost considered a friend.

Holtz was right after all. Everyone associated with Angel was deceitful. Liars. Demons.

Evil.

He didn’t notice Harry and Cordelia brushing by him. Didn’t hear the words that finally ended the melee. Didn’t quite process Cordelia beating on a demon Doyle only to hug the human one a few seconds later.

It didn’t make sense.

He finally felt Angel’s eyes on his and forced himself to smile through his daze. “I guess I missed the fight.”

Angel shrugged and put a hand on his shoulder. His touch burned.  _Fake!_  Steven’s mind screamed.  _Lies!_  But he restrained his instinct to fight and allowed Angel to steer him out of the restaurant. Ahead of them Cordelia seemed to be chewing out Doyle for some relatively minor offensive. The superficiality of the scene bit at him and underneath the truth lied dormant, deadly, dangerous.

He wouldn’t be fooled again.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next few days, Steven stayed out of the office as much as possible. He couldn’t stomach Cordelia and Doyle right now. The two of them were still going on like nothing had changed. And for them maybe nothing had.   
  
But for Steven everything was different.   
  
Angel had left for Sunnydale two days ago. Something wrong with Buffy (yet another name in the growing list of people Holtz had never mentioned). He’d left immediately following Doyle’s vision with only a word in Steven’s ear. “Keep them safe…”   
Another contradiction. No one was what they seemed. Angel wasn’t the big bad but the protector. Doyle not the easygoing comic relief but the monster. Cordelia not the gentle seductress but a mere girl.   
  
He found himself loitering outside the police station half hoping he could talk to Kate, but he couldn’t build up the courage to go inside. He bit his lip and turned to leave when he heard a voice call his name.   
  
“Steven? I thought that was you.”   
  
“Kate,” he said and turned around slowly. “Hey.”   
  
“Is something wrong?” Kate asked.   
  
“No,” stammered Steven, taken aback. “Nothing.”   
  
Kate smirked at him. “No sixteen year old hangs around the police station without a good reason. Is Angel in trouble?”   
  
“No, he’s out of town.” He blushed. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”   
  
“What about?”   
  
He opened his mouth, on the verge of telling her everything, about Doyle, Angel and Holtz. Tell her about Quortoth and betrayal and demons and lies. Tell her how much he wished she was Darla because that would mean someone in this world was real and human and trustworthy.   
  
But he looked at her and saw the unmarred innocence of someone with absolutely no knowledge of the supernatural. And somehow, he just couldn’t drag her into this all.   
  
“I was wondering if you could run that search for my dad again,” Steven lied smoothly. “I was hoping we could turn something new up.” 

XXXXX

If anything, talking with Kate only made him feel more isolated and when he came out of the police station, his head was throbbing. He needed to do something, kill something.   
  
Kate had offered to walk him home. Said it wasn’t safe for a kid like him to be on the streets at night.   
  
And as much as he liked and respected Kate, she didn’t know him.   
  
She didn’t know him at all. 

XXXXX

Steven wasn’t at Angel Investigations when Angel came back, wasn’t there for the emotional confrontation between Buffy and Angel. He bumped into Cordelia and Doyle coming out of the office as something inside crashed. Steven tried to push his way past them.   
  
Doyle caught him by the shoulder and held him firm. It was all Steven could do to keep himself from ripping his head off. “Someone needs help,” he growled   
  
“Trust me,” Cordelia said, “it’s just Angel and Buffy. You  _so_  do not want to go there.”   
  
Steven forced his muscles to relax and took a steadying breath. “Why?”   
  
“Because it’s Angel and Buffy,” Cordelia said as if it explained everything. “They’re doing their angsty lovesick thing. And besides, they’re some of the very few people who could take  _you_ down without breaking a sweat. I wouldn’t interrupt.”   
  
It wasn’t a threat, it couldn’t be a threat, but Steven was so tense at that moment his mind was distorting their every word.   
  
“We’re thinking on taking off for the day,” Doyle announced. “A sort of non-superhero paranormal free day. Want to come?”   
  
Steven did not want to come. He did not want to spend the day in the false normality and false cheer of Cordelia and Doyle, but the optimism was bewitching. Doyle’s cautious grin and Cordelia’s rolling eyes seemed completely genuine.   
  
And for a long moment, all he wanted was for it to be true. “Yeah,” he said before he could stop himself. “Sounds like fun.” 

XXXXX

And despite everything, it had been fun. Calming almost. Steven had never been to the beach before and the gentle waves lapping at the sand was transfixing. He could stare at it for ages. They’d brought hot dogs and lemonade from a street vender and for more than an hour, Steven could forgot that Cordelia was a seductress and Doyle a monster and pretend that they were just friends.   
  
He was making it hard on himself and he knew it. Sooner or later, he would have to deal with Doyle. And he’d rather not have memories of this Doyle, the easy-going friendly Irishman muddling his conscious when it finally came down to a kill or be killed situation.   
  
And when they got back to Angel Investigations, everything changed. 

XXXXX

 _Angel_ , his brain echoed dully,  _Angel is human._   _Angel is human._    
  
Maybe Steven’s sense of right and wrong had been skewed from years of living in a hell dimension, but he’d been raised to trust in one simple face: Humans are the good guys, demons are evil.   
  
The fact that people could change quickly, almost instantaneously from one to the other was not only unthinkable, but it distorted his every moral value. Because the thick dark line he’d drawn between human and demon, between good and evil was suddenly blurring and the contents of the well divided sides had begun seeping into each other.   
  
Doyle was the only demon now, he realized vacantly as he watched the surreal scene in front of him. Doyle who looked completely human and…   
  
…and then there was Steven himself.   
  
He was at least part vampire. Holtz had drilled that into his head since he could remember. The fact that he was in some ways evil, unclean. It had been the driving force behind most of his training and all of his punishments.   
  
Angel was laughing, eating for the first time in God know how long. Doyle was worried. Cordelia seemed vaguely shocked. Watching them, Steven suddenly felt out of place. He shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t watch this kind of joy from people he couldn’t trust. Because if he stayed too long….   
  
He left before Angel could give him an assignment, before he was enlisted into their newest mission. He couldn’t deal with this right now. 

XXXXX

He may not have helped them, but he watched the whole thing. Watched the odd visit to the oracles, watched the happy reunion between Angel and Buffy (another blonde, he noted, another blonde not named Darla) and tried to make sense of the whole thing.   
  
But the more he watched the day play out, the less he understood. If Angel was human, then Holtz was wrong. And if Holtz was wrong, Steven’s entire existence up to the point he stumbled out of the portal, was an outright lie. When he was honest with himself, he knew that simple fact had the ability to unravel him. When he finally forced himself to reenter Angel Investigations, Cordelia and Doyle shooed him back out the door saying that they should give Angel and Buffy some space. There was a suggestive look in her eyes when she had said that made Doyle turn bright red.   
  
Steven allowed himself to be pulled out the door.   
  
He couldn’t do this much longer. Sooner or later he was going to lose himself in the lies, in the deceit and plunge headfirst into a world where the nice, friendly, normal-looking guy could turn out to be the monster in disguise. And for the first time since this all started, he missed Quortoth with it’s scaly demons and fundamental simplicity. In a hell dimension, you killed the demon in front of you, or you got killed.   
  
He watched Doyle sit at the bar stool and order his usual, whatever that was. Cordelia just ordered a water and asked for a root beer for Steven. The show of kindness took him by surprise. He hadn’t thought Cordelia would ever do something nice for him and he took his glass with a muffled thank you and for a moment they all drank in silence.   
  
“So,” Steven started awkwardly, “who’s Buffy?”   
  
Cordelia laughed harshly. “You really are out of the loop, aren’t you?”   
  
Doyle seemed more willing to answer. “Buffy’s Angel’s on true love. From what I understand, and this is from one of those cryptic brain-numbing visions from the powers that be, they shared a moment of true happiness.”   
  
“Sex,” Cordelia injected.   
  
“And Angel turned to the dark side, lost his soul. It was part of the curse.”   
  
“Long story short,” Cordelia continued, taking up the narrative, “Angel got his soul back and now the two of them are big with the angst and woe. He left Sunnydale for her own good. They haven’t spoken for a long time.”   
  
“And now,” Doyle finished, “Angel’s human.”   
  
“And I’m out of a job,” Cordelia moaned.   
  
“It’s not just you, you know?” Doyle answered. “Me and Steven have also ventured into the realm of the unemployed.”   
  
“Oh, please. Who are you kidding? You're glad it happened.” Cordelia took a sip of her drink and shot Steven a glance. “Steven here might be on my side. He’s been gunning for Angel and killing a human’s a lot messier than killing a vampire.”   
  
“I’m not going to kill Angel,” Steven replied. And it was the plain and simple truth. The events of today had all but confirmed what Angel had insisted from the very beginning.   
  
Angel wasn’t his father. The fact left him feeling purposeless and oddly disappointed. Angel Investigations, as it turned out, wasn’t the soul sucking, manipulative organization he’d been lead to believe it was. They were out to help people. The only bad egg in the whole place was…   
  
…Doyle’s head slammed into the barroom table.   
  
“What did you see?” Cordelia asked.   
  
And suddenly, Steven knew how to make it all better.   
  
“We got trouble.”   
  
He needed to kill Doyle. 


	6. Chapter 6

Holland Manners was not a happy man. After years of tracking Angel, years of waiting for prophecies to be revealed, years of knowing what would happen without being able to act on it, the boy had shown up and blown everything to hell.

Wolfram and Hart, who had detailed records of every supernaturally inclined being in this dimension had never heard of this Steven Holtz. It was troubling. He’d had to do away with four different psychic for this failure.

“I’ve got the preliminary report on Steven Holtz,” a voice said from his office door. Holland looked up to see Lindsey McDonald clutching a thick folder. “Just wanted to hand it off as soon as I could.”

Lindsey looked like he hadn’t slept in days, which, Holland realized was probably exactly the case. It was a trait that would serve him well in the firm. It would keep him from getting himself killed.

“His genetic and spectral make-up show a few anomalies,” Lindsey said as Holland beckoned him in. “The guys in the lab had a field day with this guy.”

“Cut to the chase Lindsey, I’ve had a long day.”

“Steven Holtz is the completely human offspring of two vampires,” Lindsey said smoothly. “No word on which, but he’s faster, stronger, better than anything we’ve seen.”

“And,” Holland continued for him, “he’s fallen in with out friends at Angel Investigations. This is a situation we need remedied.”

“Sir?” Lindsey asked and in that single word, Holland could hear it. That slight hint of disgust in the whole situation that last fiber of morality that this job had yet to beat out of him.

They were on uncharted waters and Wolfram and Hart had never liked surprises, it was Holland’s duty to see that these surprises went away. “He will need to be eliminated. The Scourge is on a swing up the coast. I would suggest alerting them of this Steven Holtz’s presence.”

And there it was again, the hesitation, the slight pause before the reply. “Yes, sir.”

XXXXX

Doyle threw a few bills on the table and stumbled towards the exit. “Angel’s in trouble.”

He tripped on the fourth step and Cordelia caught him smoothly, hooking an arm under his shoulder for support. The motion was natural, almost affectionate and knowing what Doyle was, it twisted Steven’s insides.

He followed them out of the bar, fingering the knife in his jacket. He wanted to end this before he got in too deep.

Cordelia glanced back at him. “Steven, we’ve got to go.”

They were in the street now, cutting through an almost abandoned alleyway. Angel Investigations was only a few blocks away. “Steven,” Cordelia hissed again, “we’re going to need someone with super something if this it’s vision-worthy bad.”

“The Mohra,” Doyle moaned. “It regenerated itself. It’s gonna attack again and this thing got away from a slayer and Angel this morning.”

“Steven, come on,” Cordelia snapped, “if you take off again… We need to go. Now.”

Taking a deep breath, Steven pulled the knife from his jacket and fixed his gaze on Cordelia and Doyle. “Nobody’s going anywhere.”

Doyle actually had the nerve to look surprised. He stared at the knife with wide uncomprehending eyes even as Steven took a step forward.

“I knew it,” Cordelia spat, “I knew this would happen, but did you listen to me? No. You just figured he was good for his word and forgot that he tried to kill you.”

“Now’s not the time, Princess,” Doyle said softly.

The knife in his hand shook slightly, but Steven ignored it. “Cordelia, get away from him.”

“Like I’d listen to you.”

“Cordelia, do what he says,” Doyle insisted as he turned his attention back to Steven. “Steven, what are you doing? The demon’s in a factory somewhere. It’s not looking to attack here.”

Steven advanced another step. Doyle didn’t flinch. Steven smirked. “Show it to me.”

“Show you what?” Doyle asked and he seemed honestly confused. “The demon? It’s not here. You know this already. The visions aren’t exactly transferable.”

Steven smiled wolfishly. “Show me your other face.

Doyle blanched. “Wh-wha-what d’ya mean by that?”

Steven heard a crackle behind him and spun to point the knife at Cordelia. “Don’t even try.” She froze, purse raised. She had been planning to bludgeon him with it. “Stay where I can see you,” Steven instructed. “Besides you’re going to want to see this.” He looked back to Doyle. “You’re going to want to know how Doyle’s been lying to us.”

The Irishman was ghostly white now. “When did you figure it out?”

“The bachelor party,” Steven answered smoothly. “When were you planning to kill them?”

“Kill them?” Doyle repeated incredulously. “Cordy and Angel? That isn’t funny.”

“Are you two talking in code or something?” Cordelia asked.

Steven glanced in her direction and then back to Doyle. “You haven’t told her.”

“It’s not exactly the sort of thing I like to advertise.”

“Doyle…” Cordelia pleaded, the question hanging unspoken in the air.

“I’m half demon.” Doyle admitted tonelessly. “Me dad’s side. Never met the man. Didn’t even know meself until I turned twenty-one.” His gaze remained fixed on Steven. “I not seeing how it makes a difference. It’s not like you’re one hundred percent human, I can smell it on you.”

Cordelia’s face had twisted into a frown. “Half what?”

Steven flinched. Doyle had hit a nerve. Steven was looking to kill him because he’d discovered Doyle was a demon, but Angel and his friends had trusted him despite everything. And Doyle hadn’t done a thing to earn this.

 _He lied,_ Steven reminded himself harshly.  _He had lied._

“Show it to me.” Steven ordered. Doyle stared at him. “Show it to me, or I’ll kill you anyway.”

“You’re not gonna kill me,” Doyle said quietly.

“Try me,” Steven hissed.

And then Doyle changed, spikes erupted from his face, skin now vaguely green, and the bright red eyes…

He heard Cordelia let out a sharp gasp and surprise bit into him. Cordelia truly hadn’t known. Doyle turned towards her, demonic face looking oddly contrite. “Cordelia, I was going ta tell ya. I just…”

Cordelia glared at him. “You and me are going to have a talk when we’re not at the end of a knife.”

Steven watched the surreal exchange. He’d expected anger. Hell, he’d expected an outright attack. But what he got… was the same Doyle he’d met when he first came here. The one who’d taken him out for wings and trusted him despite everything.

“Steven,” Doyle implored, “it’s still me.” His face melted back into the familiar human features.

His hands were shaking. His head throbbed. He kept reminding himself that Doyle was a demon, that Doyle had lied, but somehow what had seemed like such a colossal crime only seconds ago seemed almost insignificant now. Because when he really thought about it, he realized that nothing had changed. Doyle was a demon, but Doyle had always been a demon. The only thing that different was now Steven knew.

He lowered the knife. Doyle nodded shortly. “Let’s go find Angel.”

XXXXX

Doyle insisted that they bring Steven when they went to fight the Mohra. It had only been about an hour since he’d threatened Doyle and the guy was already prepared to vouch for him. The forgiveness astounded him and once again he found himself craving their easy acceptance.

The Mohra took Doyle out almost immediately and the Irishman collapsed in a heap. Angel was overmatched. All his moves were still there, the practiced fighting technique he’d cultivated over centuries was still in place, but the movements were too slow, too weak. There differences between human and vampire fighting abilities were far too apparent.

Not that Steven fared much better. The thing was stronger that he was and while he was quick enough to get in a few hits in, nothing seemed to slow it down.

Angel tried to push himself up again, but he was hurt, he was human. “Stay down,” Steven hissed.

Angel ignored him, and while Steven was distracted, the demon batted him into a wall like he was no more than a fly and advanced again on Angel. Steven struggled to keep his eyes open. Angel was human now. He had to save him.

The Mohra was completely ignoring him now, focused solely on Angel. Steven hobbled towards it, managed to grab its neck while it was distracted. He twisted hard. The demon collapsed.

“Angel!” he croaked. “Angel!”

“I’m here,” came the faint reply. “Christ that hurt.”

Steven offered him a hand and hauled him to his feet. “We’ve got to find Doyle before something else does.”

“Steven,” Angel said, but he was looking past him, eyes slightly unfocused.

“Stay awake,” Steven hissed. “I don’t think I can carry you on this leg.”

“Steven!” Angel repeated and pushed him to the ground as the Mohra’s fist sailed over them.

“Doesn’t it die?” Steven swore.

“Run!” Angel growled. And they pulled each other to their feet and hobbled away with the Mohra right on their back.

XXXXX

Buffy, as Steven would later reflect, had truly impeccable timing. They had crashed through the top of a salt silo as the demon perused them and both Angel and Steven had landed badly. Angel taking a near belly-flop to the ground and Steven roughly jarring his already injured leg on impact.

Buffy showed up and took over the fight just before the Mohra could snap Angel’s neck. Steven tried to push himself to his feet to go give her some help, but as he stood, there was a flash of pain from his injured leg. The pain, he could handle, but the leg collapsed out from under him. He looked at in dismay only to find a large bump on his shin where the fractured bone threatened to break the skin. He hissed in pain and tried to press the bone back to place with little luck. The angle was wrong and every ounce of pressure sent fresh waves of agony shooting up his leg.

Light flashed at the edge of his vision and it took a second to realize it wasn’t from his leg but rather from the Mohra. The jewel on its forehead was shattered, light emulating from the cracks as the light grew brighter.

Then all at once, the demon was gone and Buffy was cradling Angel in her arms muttering platitudes into his ear. Steven struggled to push himself to a sitting position so he could see them. Buffy kissed the top of Angel’s head and Steven could only just make out the former vampire’s stoically resigned face. He wished he knew what it all meant.

XXXXX

He didn’t let them take him to the hospital. Just let Buffy set the bone and drop him off at Cordelia’s with Doyle. Cordelia was not happy to see him, but took one look at Buffy and Angel and didn’t protest.

She parked him and Doyle on opposite ends of her couch and for the most part seemed content to ignore Steven while she fawned over Doyle. Steven watched the scene feeling a smile creep across his face.

It felt like home. It felt like family. “What are you grinning at?” Cordelia asked him suspiciously. “Watch it or I’ll start thinking you’re plotting to destroy us again.”

“Give him a break, Princess,” Doyle said, “he grew up in a hell dimension.”

Cordelia pursed her lips. “That’s the last time you get to play the grow up in hell card.”

Steven’s grin stretched wider as she shook her head and turned to leave the room. He watched her retreating back and glanced over at Doyle. “You know, she likes you.” He shook his head. “I don’t even think the green skin bothers her.”

“And you,” Doyle asked, suddenly somber, “the half demon thing. Is that something you can deal with?”

He felt the smile fade from his face as he looked away to consider the question. Accepting him would change everything. Invalidate so very much of his life.

Doyle stared at him with mounting disappointment in his face and Steven suddenly looked up to meet his eyes. “You know what?” he said, surprised by the evenness of his own voice. “I think I ca…”

Steven blinked, suddenly disoriented. He was standing outside of Angel Investigations. There was glaring sunshine where it had been night only seconds before. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tested his weak leg only to find nothing wrong.

A small blonde stormed out of the office, head bowed as she brushed by him. He spun around as she passed, recognizing the figure. “Buffy?”

She didn’t turn around, but he was sure it was her.

Confused, Steven pulled open the door and walked into Angel Investigations, inside Cordelia and Doyle were cleaning the broken glass in Angel’s office presumably so Angel himself wouldn’t burst into flames.

They barely glanced in his direction when he entered the office. Steven stared at Angel’s dejected form and said, “Why is it still yesterday?”


	7. Chapter 7

Angel’s head up in surprise and Steven could see a rare unguarded look of pain in his eyes. “Steven? What are you talking about?”

“Last I checked, I was with Cordelia and Doyle and it was nighttime,” Steven reasoned. “And now, it’s daylight and the Mohra just attacked. Angel, Buffy killed that thing last night!” He paused, head tilting sideways as if listening for something. “What happened to your heartbeat?”

The question was innocent enough, but it cause what little color remained in Angel’s face to disappear.

“Heartbeat?” Cordelia called from the other room. “I though you were up on your vampire lore. Angel hasn’t had a heartbeat for two hundred and fifty years.”

Steven blinked in confusion. “But I remember…”

Angel wasn’t looking at him, staring at his desk to avoid eye contact. “No one was supposed to know,” Angel whispered. “I was supposed to be the only one.”

By then, Cordelia and Doyle had moved towards the doorway, watching the confrontation with interest. Cordelia was scowling in Steven’s direction, but Doyle’s gaze was fixed on Angel.

“Angel, man,” Doyle started, “what’s wrong. Buffy was here for all of five minutes and already you’re black cloud of despair’s hovering.”

“It wasn’t five minutes,” Angel whispered. “It was a whole day.”

XXXXX

Steven felt distant, detached. Angel’s words seemed to enthrall Doyle and Cordelia, the former offering quiet words of sympathy while the latter sat in a rare state of silence, but he was having a hard time focusing. Every time he blinked, it took a little longer for the world to come back into focus. And on the outskirts of his vision, he could see Quortoth, see Holtz’s rugged face, see the demons and monsters that had constantly threatened his existence.

And it scared him.

“The oracles said no one but me was supposed to remember,” Angel said, jerking Steven from his thoughts. His head shoot up to look at the vampire, but his vision blurred red as his head moved and it took a full minute for him to orient himself.

When the room came back into focus, Doyle was at his side, hovering next to him, but not touching him. “Are you OK, man?” he hesitated as if picking his words carefully. “You… blurred.”

And while Steven hated that he had drawn attention away to himself, drawn attention away from Angel who seemed like he actually needed it, he couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice when he said, “I feel off.”

“Sick off?” Cordelia asked. “Because this rug’s new and the last thing we need right now is vomit.”

Steven closed his eyes and willed whatever was lurking at the edge of his vision to leave. When he opened his eyes, everything seemed back to normal. “Nothing,” he muttered, “it’s gone now.”

“The oracles said something about an anomaly in the timeline,” Angel muttered, “I thought she was talking about me and Buffy.” Pain flashed in his eyes when he said the name. “But maybe it has something to do with why you’d remember.” He paused. “You never did get around to telling us how you got here.”

“I followed a demon out of Quortoth. Got through the portal before it sealed off behind me.”

“Where was this?” Angel asked and Steven could see that he was desperate for a distraction. “If we can find the source, we might be able to get you back to your family.”

Steven felt the blood drain from his face. “Get me back?” A sort of explosion was building in his stomach. “What if-what if I don’t want to go back? What if…” Something unexpected had happened in the past day. These people had stopped being the enemy and they had become his family. His family wasn’t Holtz, just as it wasn’t Darla and Angelus, it was the motley group of Angel Investigations.

“Settle down Steve,” Doyle said soothingly. “We’re not looking to send anyone to hell.”

Red flashed on the edges of his visions. “I’m not going back.”

“Is it only me seeing the logical problems in this? Like the fact where Hell Boy over here has no identification, no place to live and no real people skills.” And she stopped short when she saw the thoughtful look cross Angel’s face.

XXXXX

They went to Kate to ask for advice. Angel in front doing the talking, Steven lingering at his heels. The process baffled him, the legality of it all. The need of social security cards and birth certificates and identification none of which Angel or Steven seemed to actually posses, was almost irrelevant compared to one all-consuming fact.

It was adoption. The same person who he’d come looking to kill was going to take him in. It didn’t feel nearly as strange as it should. It feel good, more real than anything in his life ever had.

XXXXX

Bliss lasted for all of twelve hours and then everything went to hell.

It all started with Doyle’s vision, slamming into him when as they were leaving the office for their nightly patrol. Even Steven, who was still not used to the half-demon’s visions, knew this was worse than usual. When the vision let go of him, there was a haunted look on his face and he wouldn’t look at Angel or Cordelia.

“What is it?” Angel asked, a supporting hand on Doyle’s shoulder. “Doyle, what did you see?”

Something was wrong. Steven had spent the entire day with Doyle yesterday, a day that by rights, should go the same way as today. But this,  _this,_  had not happened. Something was wrong.

Doyle’s saucer wide eyes bored into him, not Angel, not Cordelia, but him and Steven could see a myriad of emotions there, regret, sympathy, incomprehension and under it all, pure unadulterated fear.

“Doyle,” Angel said again, voice more insistent. “Doyle, what did you see.”

“The Scourge is coming,” a new voice said from the doorway and in unison, three heads snapped in its direction. “They’re looking for Steven.”

XXXXX

The scene flickered before him and for a second, Steven could see a street, fire, a baby in a man’s arms and then he blinked and he was in Angel Investigations staring at the man in the doorway. “Lindsey?” he heard Angel hiss. “What brings Wolfram and Hart here?”

There was history there, one glance between Angel and Lindsey told him that much.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Lindsey said evenly, “and helping people is what you do. I’ve got some information that might help.”

“We don’t work with Wolfram and Hart.”

“I remember,” Lindsey clipped, “you threw my client out of a twenty story window.”

“I’d be happy to do the same for you, all you have to do is ask.”

“Very funny. Threaten the guy who comes to help you.”

“Angel,” Doyle said gently, “we should let him speak his piece.”

Lindsey gave him a curt nod and slipped into the room, leaning up against a wall. “Steven’s in trouble. Wolfram and Hart have decide he’s a threat and they’ve contacted the Scourge in an effort to get him eliminated.”

“Why?” Steven asked. “I’ve haven’t even been here for two weeks.”

“Because they’ve never heard of you.” Lindsey explained. “They’ve got records of everyone who’s ever existed and quite a few who will exist, but nothing about you. You took them by surprise and it’s got them scared.

Angel’s words rang in his ears  _“The oracles said something about an anomaly in the timeline. I thought she was talking about me and Buffy. But maybe it has something to do with why you’d remember.”_

And all at once everything made sense, why no one knew of Angel’s son, why this reality didn’t resemble what Holtz had described, why Wolfram and Hart didn’t know who he was.

He was out of time, displaced. By all rights, he shouldn’t exist yet. Steven Holtz or whatever name Angel had originally given him wouldn’t exist for years. And between the here and now and the then and there, things would get worse, people would change grow darker, grow evil. Doyle would be gone, Cordelia’s brash personality would twist and Angel himself would lose to the darkness.

Unless of course, Steven could stop it before it happened.

XXXXX

Unfortunately, his plans for grandeur were put on hold because. It turned out, the first thing Angel did when someone was in trouble was sideline them. They took him to the police station and left him and Lindsey with Kate while they went to go fight the Scourge.

They were putting themselves in danger in the name of saving him. The fact burned. This wasn’t their fight. The Scourge was looking for him. The weird thing about it was the tug of inevitability. The somehow intrinsic knowledge that this would end badly no matter what he did.

Kate, not at all happy with being kept out of the loop had brought them all to an interrogation room and promptly began grilling Lindsey for information.

He tried not to listen to the argument. It was obvious that neither one was particularly fond of the other and most of Kate’s questions couldn’t be answered without broaching the supernatural angle. Lindsey answered what he could, but evaded most.

“Who exactly is after Steven? If you actually give me a name, I could get police on it.”

“They’re a fanatic group,” Lindsey allowed. “Bad news.”

“Well why are they after Steven of all people? He doesn’t have any ties here. His family’s gone and left him…”

Steven’s vision flickered. He was in a hotel, surrounded by people he didn’t recognize holding a….

“Kate, I don’t know why they’re after him. They just are.”

Lindsey evaded more questions. Kate’s frustration was mounting because she just didn’t know, didn’t know about demons, didn’t know about Angel, didn’t know about Doyle

“Are they clients of yours?” Kate snapped. “Protecting the bad guys. I’ll pin that one down on that firm of yours--aiding and abiding know fugitives, impeding a police investigation.”

“Kate. I don’t know when they’re coming or why. Angel went out to find out. If they figure anything out…”

“I figured it out,” Steven said aloud. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Me neither kid,” Lindsey said with a wry grin. “I’d much rather be in my office right now.”

“No one’s keeping you here,” Kate spat.

“My bosses are probably looking to kill me now,” Lindsey replied tersely. “I’m going to lie low.”

The different scene hovered on the edge of Steven’s vision, threatening to overwhelm him, take him back to his true time, and only sheer force of will kept him firmly where he was.

“Did you just see that?” Kate was suddenly at his side, gripping his shoulders like she was afraid he might disappear. “I want to know what’s going on.” Her nails dug into his skin. Steven welcomed the pain.

“I—I think I’m out of time. Holtz, my father, he used to tell me about Angel and his friends, but nothing’s like he said it was.”

He could see Kate slipping into cop mode. “You mean this Holtz character has been stalking Angel? Why hasn’t he reported it?”

Steven took a steadying breath. “Because it hasn’t happened yet.”

“But you just said…”

Lindsey was quicker on the uptake. “Do you know how far you came back?”

“I was in Quortoth for most of it,” Steven said, eyes closed. I’m not sure, but things are going to change.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“Steven’s from the future.”

It sound insane when it was voiced out loud. Kate’s eyes narrowed, searching for any sign of sarcasm in either Lindsey or Steven’s face. She stood up and paced a bit before finally turning back to them both. “You’re going to tell me everything. No lies.”

Steven opened his mouth to start, but at that moment, the door to the interrogation room sprang open reveling a haggard looking cop with wide, terrified eyes. “Lockely, something’s happening downstairs… It’s bad.”

“Spit it out, Pete.” Kate snapped. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“They’re…. They’re… God, Kate, they’re not human!”

“You’re not making a lot of sense, Pete.” Kate’s eyes drilled into the other man’s skull and Steven would have been grateful that the look wasn’t directed at him if he hadn’t already figured out what was happening.

“They’re attacking the police station?” Lindsey said in disbelief. “The police station?”

“They’re demons,” Steven hissed. “They attack anything.”

“Maybe in Quortoth,” Lindsey allowed, “but here, they try to lie low. A flat out attack on the cops draws attention. Wolfram and Hart are going to have a hell of a time covering this up.” A funny look crossed his face. “Might distract them from looking to kill me.”

“It’s the Scourge, isn’t it?” Steven whispered. “They’re looking for me.”

“They want you bad, Steve.” Lindsey answered. “Bad enough to break all the rules.”

“But why?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Lindsey asked. “Time travel, well that’s unusual, but doesn’t automatically make you a threat. The Scourge is dedicated to getting ride of any half-breed demons. And as far as half-breeds go, let’s face it you’re as good as it gets. Son of two vampires with all the benefits of both sides and none of the drawbacks. You’re a threat to them all. Wolfram and Hart found out and….”

Steven’s thoughts were spinning. It was one thing to know he was a freak, the bastard son of vampires, cursed to carry the blood of monsters, but another thing completely to look at his heritage, look at his person and see the advantages of it all, the benefits, as Wolfram and Hart, the Scourge and Lindsey so clearly did.

 _Holtz was wrong._ Steven realized with absolute certainty. _Holtz was wrong about everything…About Angel, his friends, demons, the world…_

“You two stay here,” Kate ordered. “We’ve got a situation downstairs I need to deal with.”

“It won’t work,” said Lindsey. “You’re not going to be able to stop them with bullets.” He shut the door before she could leave. “Kate, we’ve got to figure out a plan.”

“A plan,” Kate repeated dangerously. “This is my  _job_.”

“You’ll pump some lead into them and you know what, they’ll just keep coming. They’re faster than you, stronger and nothing short of broken neck is going to stop them. They’re demons, Kate. Fire and brimstone. The whole nine yards.”

“Fine,” Kate said crossing her arms. “If there are  _demons_ attacking the police station which, by the way, is something out of a Stephen King novel, why now? What are they after? And how can you kill them?”

Steven stood up. “They’re after me.”

XXXXX

The police station blurred with scenes from his youth, scenes from Quortoth. Chaos, screams, the strong preying on the weak. Ineffectual bullets, blood, the stench of death everywhere.

Steven entered the room, and threw himself into the fray before Lindsey and Kate could even think to stop him and the demons, one by one, abandoned their opponent and began to focus solely on him. Steven’s world narrowed to the fight, the demons on all sides of him, blows and counter blows as the rest of the group ran for cover.

He heard Kate yell his name. And then a flash of light.

He panicked for a moment as white invaded his vision. The light, so like the portal that had brought him there filled him with dread and he lashed out blindly in every directions, now caring what or who he hit as long as it meant he was still there.

He felt Lindsey’s hands close around his wrist and relief washed over him. “Calm down, Steven, we’ve got about thirty seconds.”

He let Lindsey steer him out of the station, Kate following close behind. “That was one of Wolfram and Hart’s flares. Always make for a quick getaway, but security will be here in about two minutes. Not to mention the Scourge will be back in business as soon as the flair dies.”

When they were outside, Lindsey pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call Angel.”

Steven collapsed in the ground, all energy suddenly flooded from his bones. Kate crouched down next to him. “Steve?” she asked. “You all right? You hurt?”

His muscles screamed, his vision flickered, blurred. He was exhausted as if, in one moment, years of fighting had finally caught up to him and for just a moment, he wanted to give up, give in. Let whatever was pulling at him win, and let himself be pulled back into his rightful time, go back to Quortoth or where ever he was supposed to be. At least things would be simple there. Black and white…

Lindsey snapped the phone shut. “We’ve got to go to the docks. Angel’s got a ship, the Quintessa. They’ve got a some people who they need to get away from the Scourge. We’re meeting up with them at the docks.”

“I’m not going.” Steven muttered addressing the world in general. “You can’t make me go back.”

“Take that up with Angel when you get there. My car’s around front. Kate, you think we could make sure we’re not followed.”

Kate nodded. Steven could see the terror hidden behind her eyes. She was trying to be strong, trying to keep things together, but she was a step away from following apart.

“Let’s go.” Lindsey said, and Steven forced himself to move.

XXXXX

They had a tail, but in the end, that really didn’t matter. The battle was already raging by the time they got there. The ship was pulling off but there were some of the Scourge soldiers on the gangplanks, others were already on the ship.

“The ship’s gone,” Lindsey said in defeat. “We’re too late.”

Steven looked from him to Kate, face resolute. “Stay out of sight,” he ordered. “There may be more coming.”

“Steven?” Kate said in confusion. “What are you talking about.”

He gave them a small smile, an unintentional goodbye. “Thank you. For everything.”

And with a single, giant leap, he was on the ship.

XXXXX

Inside, pandemonium. The demon refugees were huddled in the cargo bay, Cordelia and Doyle trying to keep them calm and Angel was locked in a fight with what seemed to be the Scourge leader. Steven wasted no time in throwing himself into the fray, punching, kicking, fighting. All the way, he felt that tug, pulling him from every side and as he fought the demons, he fought the pull, promising himself that they’d all get out of this all right. That him and Angel and Doyle and Cordelia and even Kate and Lindsey would go back to Angel Investigations and things would be good and things would stay good no matter what Holtz had told him.

He didn’t remember how he and Angel made it to the catwalk. Didn’t remember tearing the head off of a demon, didn’t remember how Cordelia and Doyle climbing up to meet them. He barely heard Angel’s explanation of what the light, was, what it did.

All he do was stare at the beacon, the burning white light and see the portal that had brought him here and now threaten to take him away again.

He didn’t register his surroundings, didn’t notice Doyle knocking Angel off the catwalk, didn’t see Cordelia and Doyle’s kiss. His vision tunneled until it all he could see was the beacon, the portal, Angel’s words ringing in his head.

_If I pull the cable, I think I can still shut it off._

Steven jumped, landing easily, effortlessly on the beacon’s platform, hands seeking the cables Angel spoke of, finding them almost immediately. He didn’t look back, just closed his eyes, shielding them against the blinding light and pulled with all his might.

Quortoth swam on the outskirts of his vision, Holtz and demons and red, but at the same time, he saw something different something softer. Angel holding an infant, a younger Steven laughing and smiling and…

The light flickered out and the beacon swung back and forth serenely for a moment and then crashed to the floor, glass shattering in every direction.

“Steven!” Angel’s voice echoed over the cargo bay, a cry of anguish, panic.

His call wasn’t answered.


	8. Epilogue

Angel could hear them talking. Could practically imagine the scene behind the closed door, Cordelia and Doyle huddled over the baby, his  _son_. Tickling him, holding him or just staring at him. They all did a lot of staring at him.

Doyle’s voice drifted through the door. “Look at him, Princess. You can’t be telling me you don’t see it.”

“It’s hard to miss,” Cordelia admitted with a touch of sadness in her voice.

Angel had seen it too. It was impossible not to. Every once in a while, his son would look at him with those clear blue eyes and Angel would feel his unneeded breath catch in his throat...

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Doyle whispered, “Darla and Holtz and now this.”

Angel pushed the door open and both of his friends jumped a little. “Would it kill you to make a little noise?” Cordelia asked irritably.

Angel didn’t apologize. “Where are Kate and Lindsey?”

“At the station,” Doyle replied.

“They’ve got him,” Cordelia said. “Holtz, I mean. Kate says they’ve got a way to keep him in jail until Wes and Fred can undo whatever spell brought him here.”

Warmth spread through Angel’s chest, with the knowledge that his son would be safe.

“Angel,” Doyle said quietly. “This is all starting to feel too familiar. Holtz, your having a kid. I’ve heard talk that the Scourge is on a swing up the coast. Have you ever considered…”

“No,” Angel said sharply. “I haven’t.”

“Angel,” Cordelia challenged. “The kid looks just like Steven. You have to have see it.”

“No,” Angel repeated, but it was a lie. He’d seen it. Oh, how he’d seen it. Every single day he looked into his son’s eyes and saw Steven. Saw the soul he had failed to save and it burned. Even knowing that by all rights, Steven should never have been in his life, never existed, it burned.

But to even consider that his son, this precious little boy in from of him, would have to survive the horrors Steven had endured filled him with dread.

“It would explain a lot,” Doyle said lightly. “Everything, actually. Where he came from, why…”

Angel stepped smoothly between his two friends and picked his son out of his cradle, rocking him protectively in his arms. “This isn’t Steven.”

He wouldn’t saddle his son with that name, with that fate. To grow up with a madman in a hell dimension only to die at age sixteen. He’d grieved for Steven, the son he’d never had, but the son he held in his arms now was someone knew, someone different.

“This is Connor,” he said.

 _I’ll do better this time,_ he promised Steven silently.  _I’ll do better._


End file.
